


Your Skin Speaks Up

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [47]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angry Sex, Cunnilingus, Escort Service, F/M, Mistaken Identity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:39:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline Forbes high tailed it out of Mystic Falls shortly after becoming a vampire - and realizing that her parents weren't too fond of her kind. Decades later, having traveled the world, and tried on different lives, she finds herself in New Orleans. She makes a couple friends but she's nervous about this 'King' business, and all the things she's heard about Klaus Mikaelson.</p><p>In NOLA's favor is that it caters to all of a vampires need, including the sexual ones, with a discreet supernatural friendly escort service. Caroline decides to give it a whirl. But things are not as they seem...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Skin Speaks Up

**Your Skin Speaks Up**

**(Prompt:** **"Mistaken identity and now things are weird" Klaroline AU. Inspired by a Lisa Kleypas historical romance in which the heroine is depressed about turning 30 so she hires an escort. Only he turns out to be her new boss. Title from 'Deep' by NIN. Smut.)**

Later, looking back on the incident and cringing, Caroline blames the booze. Because she had been _drunk_. Drunker then drunk. Completely and totally wasted.

More so then she'd been in at least a decade. And the time she'd previously reached that level of intoxication had involved a cocktail heavy on the absinthe, recommended by a smirky vampire whose name she'd never caught. He'd been kind of a perv but a lot of fun (completely non sexual fun. Making your intro using the words 'tasty little thing' was not endearing, in Caroline's book).

Thank god her liver could heal itself.

She'd taken the first shot to work up a little courage to make the call, starring at the number on the card that Gia had slipped her.

Fun fact about New Orleans: it catered to _all_ of a vampire's needs. Not just sustenance.

Apparently there was a discrete little escort service that had been running for centuries. Caroline probably wouldn't have been told about it, being so new to the city. But Gia had connections to the Mikaelson's, the vampires who ran the city's supernatural affairs. And she'd taken a shine to Caroline, having heard her singing along to an old song on the radio in the little shop that they'd both been rummaging in.

Caroline's current occupation, interior decorator, meant she spent a lot of time on her own, so her social life had been pretty nonexistent since her move. It wasn't exactly challenging work, brain wise. But a lot of fun and an excuse to shop, check out off the beaten path second hand stores, to see what treasures she could unearth. And fine, maybe she bought a few too many things for herself. But she had three residences at the moment and she was only 113 years old. Who knew how many places she'd have to decorate by the time she hit the big two – oh – oh?

Meeting Gia had been a stroke of luck. They'd become fast friends, finding they had much in common. Turned within years of each other they'd both run away from small towns (though Gia as a human and Caroline as a brand new vampire once she'd found that the sleepy little hamlet of Mystic Falls, Virginia was far from welcoming of her kind). Caroline found out that Gia had been turned in New Orleans, just a few years after Caroline herself had been, and had used the city as a home base ever since. She knew all about how supernatural politics worked in the city, though she'd had little patience for the pretentiousness of it. "Have you met the 'king' yet?" she'd asked one afternoon, the title said with a derisive roll of her eyes.

Caroline's eyebrows had crept up in confusion, "What king?"

"He runs this place. Has forever. He's a little mellower now then he was a century ago."

That certainly sounded foreboding.

Perhaps reading Caroline's unease Gia had rushed to reassure her. "It's really not that bad. Follow the rules and you'll be fine. I'm sure you'll get his summons before too long."

Caroline had, of course, grilled Gia on the rules she was supposed to be following. They were simple enough and she could see the logic in them, how they'd keep vampires hidden and allow them to live without pesky questions from human authorities.

That didn't mean she was entirely sure about the 'king' business Gia had mentioned.

It was another of her and Gia's conversations that had led to Caroline's current state of drunkenness. The other woman had been aghast to find out that Caroline had been single for more years then she'd cared to remember, and celibate for going on ten months. "That's just not normal," she'd said, wide eyed and shaking her head. "How have you survived?"

And it's not like Caroline had been happy with the state of events. But she'd been touring a particularly unpopulated corner of South America. Certain sacrifices had needed to be made. Gia had been joking when she'd offered Caroline the card. It was simple, no business name. A deep burgundy color with a phone number printed in black.

And at first Caroline's reaction had been a hard no. She was forever seventeen and pretty damn hot, thank you very much. Finding a guy interested in taking her to bed had never been a problem. But the idea lingered, in the back of her mind. What would be the harm? She wasn't sure if she was staying or leaving NOLA. She'd never lived in a place with so many vampires, had yet to decide if the benefits outweighed the downsides. She could have a fling with a random vampire but that might make things awkward, if she decided to stay. No one likes to be haunted by a one night stand.

A couple of days later she'd caved and asked for the card. Gia had grinned, and handed it over, sing songing, "Have fu-un!" as Caroline had left with it tucked away in her bag.

And staring at her phone, thumb hovering over the keypad, one shot of truly excellent tequila had turned into two. Then three. And then she'd downed the entire bottle before dialing. The voice that answered had been a woman, her drawl southern, sweet and courteous. She'd been polite enough to ignore Caroline's slurring as she answered questions about her preferences.

A man. Attractive but not too pretty. And that's about as far as she'd gotten before floundering. The woman had rattled off a list of options that had made Caroline feel distinctly warm, even if she'd turned them all down. Better to keep it basic for the first time, and file things like 'roleplay' and 'spelled restraints' away for later contemplation.

She'd been quoted a price that made her wince, and mentally resolve to hustle up a new client or two. But she'd agreed, and been told to expect a visit from a 'Jack' within the hour.

Which had led to a minor freak out and an unsteady dash to her closet. Just because she was paying for it didn't mean her bra shouldn't be cute.

There'd been a knock on her door when she was still naked and debating between black lace and purple silk, less then fifteen minutes from the moment she'd hung up the phone.

Geez, those people did not screw around.

Caroline shrugged, tossing her lingerie options back into the drawer, and slipping on her slinkiest robe. Maybe it was a sign. She pads to the door, schooling her features into a cool mask. No need to let the guy know she was a nervous wreck, right?

She takes a deep breath before throwing open the door. She smiles, fingers twisting in the belt of her robe. The vampire on the other side of the door is dressed casually, in jeans and a dark grey Henley. And the agency had definitely nailed her request. He was very attractive, full lipped with a hint of stubble on a chiseled jaw. Not much taller than her and no trace of gym rat pretty boy, something Caroline had long since lost her taste for.

She realizes that she's been staring at him for way too long without speaking. He's raised a brow, and seems to be waiting patiently. Caroline swallows back a nervous giggle, "Hi. Sorry, come in. I wasn't expecting you so soon."

A flicker of surprise crosses his face, maybe a little confusion too. But he steps forward, passing her in the doorway. "That's quite all right, love." He surveys her apartment, eyes narrowed and assessing and Caroline wonders what he's seeing. She's neat in general but her apartment reflects her travels, an odd mix of old pieces and new. She likes colors and textures and comfortable furniture, even if it's not exactly trendy. But when he turns back to her and says, "You've a lovely home," he seems sincere.

"Thank you," she replies. She hesitates, unsure of how to proceed. "Would you like a drink?" she offers. "I might have finished the tequila but I'm sure I've got a bottle of wine somewhere."

His gaze sharpens and he studies her face for long moments. "Been having a bit of a private party, have you?"

It's said with a tinge of amusement and Caroline bristles slightly, turning away. And promptly stumbles into a table she'd forgotten was there. Oops.

It tips, but luckily her visitor has crazy quick reflexes and he snatches the lamp that had been knocked askew before it can hit the floor. He sets it down and grasps her elbow, leading her to her couch. "Right. Why don't you just have a seat before you destroy any more antiques, hmm?"

Caroline flops down onto the cushions, her robe splitting over her thighs. Her guest's eyes linger, unmistakably appreciative. Caroline smirks, because it never hurt to be reminded that you were attractive. She crosses one thigh over the other, letting the silk creep up even higher. But her guest is way more gentlemanly then she would have expected, averting his eyes and turning away.

"What's your name, love?" he asks, wandering over to a wall where she's hung several framed photographs. It had been a career, a couple of decades ago, one of her favorites. She'd even won some awards and it's totally a job she plans to pick up again someday.

"Caroline," she tells him automatically. And then she wonders if she should have lied. Surely she hadn't been given his actual name? "And you're Jack, right? I think that's what the lady on the phone said."

He stills, his back tensing. He'd leaned in to examine a shot of Salto El Sapito, but he turns slowly to face her, his head tipped to the side. He prowls forward a few steps, "And which lady was that?" he asks softly.

And maybe it's the alcohol but something in the silky tone makes her pause, a little chill in the air. Caroline leans forward, groping for the square of paper she knows she'd left on the table. She holds it up and his eyes zero in on it. He seems to relax, and his lips curl with something like humor. "Oh, that lady. Of course. And it's Nick, actually. Not Jack."

Huh. Caroline could have sworn it was Jack. Stupid tequila.

She shakes her head and sits up straighter. "Oookay. Now that we've got that out of the way. How does this usually work? I've never paid for sex before."

He turns back to the photographs for a moment, and Caroline thinks he's hiding a smile. And she's not sure she likes this guy. It's been awhile since she's toiled away in customer service but she knew better then to laugh at a client who thought wood paneling was a good idea. Should he really be mocking her right now? Was there a comment card she could fill out? She'd have to look into it.

Maybe she'd imagined it because when he turns back any hint of laughter is gone. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and types something quickly. She's about to ask, but thinks better of it, assuming it's a safety thing. Just in case she was a serial killer after hot vampire prostitutes. He joins her on the couch, facing her and laying his arm along the back. She can't help that her eyes are drawn to his hands, the big palms and long fingers have her squeezing her legs together as flashes of where she wants them flit through her mind.

It really had been too long.

He watches her do it with interest, and she thinks she sees him inhale deeply. The blue of his eyes darkens a few shades and when he speaks there's a brand new husky note deepening his voice. "There's no agenda, love. And no rush. Why don't you tell me about yourself? Perhaps it'll help you relax?"

So he had picked up on her anxiety. Kind of embarrassing. She ducks her head, letting her hair shield her face, groping for something to say. He helps, asking gently, "How long have you been a vampire for?"

"Almost a century," she answers.

"And where were you turned?"

"Mystic Falls, Virginia."

He smiles, lets out a short laugh. "What I coincidence, so was I."

Caroline narrows her eyes, looking for a hint that he's messing with her, "No way."

"Yes way," he echoes playfully. "Long before you, however. Before electricity and running water. Before it was really much of a town. I was there again, not quite a century ago. Taking care of an old associate, ran into some old friends. Perhaps you knew them? Katerina Petrova and the Brother's Salvatore."

It's been more than a lifetime since she'd last seen any of them, and she hadn't thought of them in years. Still, hearing the names makes her freeze, a kick of fear landing deep in her gut, breath catching in her throat. He shifts forward minutely, his interest obviously peaked. "I take it you are familiar," he says, and it's not a question.

"Too familiar," she spits out, her hands balling into fists so hard it hurts.

"So you'd not be upset," he continues conversationally, "if I told you that I'd killed them?"

Air comes out of her mouth in a rush, and she's shocked at the relief she feels. She's probably a terrible person, but she finds she's not even the slightest bit sad, not even about Stefan, who'd managed to be kind to her, once she'd turned. But he'd only done it for Elena, hadn't cared much when Caroline was just another defenseless human girl his brother was going to use up and throw away.

He's watching her, his absorption plain, and Caroline shakes her head. "No," she tells him finally. "No I wouldn't be. And this is really not going how I thought it would."

The last was said under her breath, almost to herself, but he hears it. "And how did you think this would go?" he wonders, with an air of genuine curiosity.

Caroline shifts. "I didn't think small talk was going to happen, let alone deep conversation about murdered mutual acquaintances."

He throws his head back and laughs, "Well, such is the life of our kind."

She finds herself smiling, and rolling her eyes. "Don't let this 'king' guy hear you say that. I've heard he's kind of controlling. Picky about who gets murdered when."

If anything he laughs just the slightest bit harder. "Oh, have you not met our esteemed king, then?"

Caroline wrinkles her nose. "No. I'm told it's a you get summoned kind of deal. Show up, kiss the ring, or lose your head."

"Ah, yes. He's a bit temperamental, to be sure. But I'm sure you'll be fine. Pretty thing that you are. Perhaps you should mind your sharp tongue though, love. I find it delightful, of course. But he might not be in the mood for it."

She smothers a yawn with her hand, sinking further into the couch. "I might be in trouble then. Mouthy is kind of my default setting."

"You don't say?"

Caroline's tempted to throw a pillow at him, because he's clearly once again mocking her, but he reaches over, wraps a hand around her calve, and stretches her legs out across his lap. His fingertips stroke the skin along her shin, occasionally trickling up and tracing her knee. It feels nice, and she relaxes further.

She's fighting to keep her eyes open, because what kind of person falls asleep on a hooker, but he makes a soft shushing noise. "Sleep, Caroline," he urges. "It was very nice to meet you but I'm afraid you're not in a fit state for the things I'd like to do to you."

She fights it but between his touch and his low, coaxing tones she finds herself slipping away, limbs going heavy.

Her last thought before sleep claims her is that Gia was never going to let Caroline forget how unbelievably lame she was.

* * *

Caroline's abruptly awoken by a knocking at her front door. Her eyes dart around her apartment, confirming that she's alone. She sits up, noting that she's covered in the quilt from her bedroom, and there's a pillow underneath her head. Her mouth's a little dry but there's no headache or nausea (perk of vampirism) and she get to her feet without trouble.

Short term memory loss brought on by her over imbibing would have been fantastic though. Caroline kind of wants to hide under the blankets until she desiccates remembering just what she'd done last night.

There's another knock, louder this time, and she can hear someone shifting outside. Looking down, she notes her robe's askew so she unbelts it hurriedly and ties it more firmly around her body before making her way to the door. She checks the peephole, and the man on her welcome mat is familiar.

"Marcel?" she asks, once she throws it open. "What are you doing here?"

She'd met him once or twice, as he'd been the one to turn Gia and they'd remained good friends. She liked him, found him charming and easy to talk to, though she detected a hint of something cunning underneath and had been careful not to be too free with information about herself. At least until she knew him a little better. He grins at her, keeping his eyes respectfully on her face, and holds up a cream colored invitation. "Klaus is having a party tonight, wanted me to invite the newest members of our little vampire community."

Caroline takes the envelope, rubbing the thick paper between her fingertips. "So I've finally been summoned, I guess?"

"Yep," he confirms easily. "But don't worry, it's just a formality. Gia's vouched for you, and Elijah takes her word seriously. And Elijah's about the only person who Klaus occasionally listens to. You'll be fine. And I promise it'll be a hell of a party." Marcel takes a step back, without waiting for Caroline to reply. "I'll see you tonight."

She waves as he leaves, tears into the invitation before she's fully back inside the apartment. Scans it, notes the time and address. She's surprised to find a note, scrawled by hand in neat, flowing script, at the bottom.

' _I look forward to officially making your acquaintance, Caroline. - K.M.'_

Caroline sets it aside, puzzled at the personal touch. She'd been led to believe that Klaus wasn't the friendly type. That he kept a small circle of confidantes, mostly consisting of his family, and that he preferred those around him not included in it to speak only when spoken to.

But then again, Gia was her only point of reference and she wasn't exactly fond of the guy. Apparently the nicest thing he'd ever said to her, in almost a century, was, 'You're slightly more tolerable then my brother's last few brunette obsessions,' and had seemed to think it a great compliment. So basically, a mega douche. Not the type to bother leaving notes of welcome to vampire nobodies like her.

She goes to the fridge to pull out a blood bag, because maybe things would seem clearer when her gums no longer ached. Her phone's sitting on the counter and she picks it up to charge, surprised to see she has a voicemail. And once she's listened to it she'd confused for an entirely different manner. She recognizes the voice as the woman she'd spoken to last night in her drunken haze.

' _Good evening, Miss Forbes. We'd like to apologize that the meeting we arranged was not to your tastes. We pride ourselves on the satisfaction of our clientele. Please feel free to give us a call if you'd like to arrange something else.'_

Caroline listens to the message three times, still at a loss for what exactly it's about. Eventually, she disconnects, plugging her phone in with a huff. She chugs a portion of B+, not bothering to warm it up. This day's too weird already, she decides, once she's finished.

It's not her usual style but she is still kind of tired. And a little extra beauty sleep never hurt anyone.

* * *

She takes a cab, gawks at the grand façade of the house the address on the invitation had directed her too. She's been in her share of mansions, even back when she'd been a human teenager partying at Mayor Lockwood's house. But this one is gorgeous. White washed, tall columns on a big wraparound porch, several stories high and brightly lit. The door's opened as soon as she steps onto the top step. A man in a suit with a clipboard gives her a once over. "Name?" he asks, sounding bored.

She clears her throat. "Caroline. Caroline Forbes."

Recognition lights his eyes, and he doesn't even glance at his list. "Come right it. You're expected."

She smiles her thanks, takes a shaky breath. She walks past him, takes a step to the left, in the direction she can hear music emanating from. But the door attendant clears his throat. "To the right, Miss. Third door down. Klaus wishes to speak with you."

Caroline hopes her gulp isn't audible. She changes direction. Begins to ramble, because that's what she does when she's freaking out. "Probably wants reasonable doubt if he kills me, right? Can't have me disappearing from his lordship's party."

She's mostly joking but the servant doesn't crack a smile. Not exactly comforting. He points again, "That way. Third…"

"Door down. Gotcha. Thanks." Caroline throws her shoulders back, and keeps her chin up. No reason to meet her possible doom like a coward. However, her steely countenance doesn't last long, once she crosses the threshold to the indicated room. "You!" she spits out, first laying eyes on her old absinthe pushing club friend. "And you," she continues, more softly, a note of horror slipping in. Because the other man in the room is Nick. The man who'd been in her apartment last night.

And Caroline's not a stupid individual. She can do math better than most. One of these two men is the King of New Orleans, and she only hopes it's not the one who knew she'd hired a prostitute.

"My, my," the darker haired man begins, with a leer at the length of her legs. "Such a small world. Whatever was your name, darling? I'm afraid I didn't catch it. Despite the fact that our last encounter was so… memorable."

' _Nick's'_ face turns stony, "And how do you know Caroline, Kol?"

Caroline winces, as a puzzle piece snapped into place. If the dark haired man was Kol, the youngest of the Mikaelson brothers, that meant the other man was Klaus.

And wasn't that just her luck?

"Oh, you know how it is, Brother. A girl and a boy and plenty of liquor. Hot bodies, a burning attraction. Things just happen."

Caroline feels her face twist in revulsion, and she lets out a scoff. "Funny, that's not how I remember it."

He only grins, leans back on the sofa he's sprawled on, setting his boots on the table. "Only joking. But perhaps fate is trying to tell us something. You look every bit as tasty as I remember."

And then Klaus is moving, almost faster than Caroline can catch, hauling his brother up out of his seat and shoving him towards the door. "Out, Kol. And mind your manners amongst my guests."

Kol makes a show of brushing off his jacket, "Yes, of course. I'll be on my very best behavior."

Somehow Caroline doesn't believe him. Kol leaves, slamming the door behind him, and Caroline's left alone in the room with the last being on earth she wants to have a conversation with. She looks anywhere but at him, trying to think of a reason to excuse herself. It would be so much easier if she could fake an attack of cramps right now. He speaks solicitously, "Can I offer you a drink, Caroline?"

She shakes her head immediately, "No. Pretty sure I'm never, _ever_ , drinking again."

"Not on my account, I hope?" He sounds way too innocent and Caroline can't help but look at him, note that his dimples are on full display as he smirks at her.

And it makes her so very angry.

"Is this funny to you?" she spits. "Are you getting off on my humiliation right now? Jesus. I heard you were a dick but come on."

He sobers slightly, swirls the bourbon he'd helped himself to around the glass as he studies her. "You weren't exaggerating about mouthy, were you?"

Caroline sighs, crosses her arms in front of her, "Are you going to kill me?"

"Do you really think that low of me?" he wonders, searching her features intently.

She refuses to squirm under the weight of his gaze. "Right now? Yeah, I kind of do."

A low, "Hmm," rumbles out of him, but he makes no further comment.

"Am I excused?" she asks, tone dripping with acid. "Your highness?"

Her plan is to leave. To walk out the door, back her bags, and get the hell out of New Orleans. She'll text Gia tomorrow, keep in touch. Maybe they can meet up somewhere else. But Klaus thwarts her, "To enjoy the party? Feel free, love. Save me a dance."

It's phrased like a suggestion but Caroline hears the underlying steel of an order, loud and clear. She nods tightly, spinning on her heel, resisting the urge to stomp her way to the door.

God, she was so freaking screwed.

* * *

It takes a great deal of effort to walk into the party like nothing's bothering her. To smile at Gia, accept compliments on her outfit (which _was_ great, and such a shame that it was wasted on this) and lie through her teeth that everything had gone perfectly fine. She's finally introduced to Elijah, finds him a little stiff, but nice enough.

She firmly turns down the Aunt Roberta that Kol had instructed the bartenders on how to make, much to his disappointment, ignoring his taunt of, "But I remember you being much more fun, darling." Her liver would survive it be she has no desire to go down _that_ road again.

Klaus saunters into the room about ten minutes after she had and the buzz of the crowd grows louder. People seem eager to talk to him, and he makes his way around the room, seemingly the consummate host. Caroline's careful to be on the opposite side at all times, tracking his movements. She expects him to make a move, to corner her. She's dreading it, knows can't be rude to him in front of all these people. That she'll grit her teeth and act like she's happy to speak to him, because as prideful as she is she's self-preserving too. But Klaus leaves her be and gradually Caroline relaxes.

And of course that's when he pounces.

There's a tap to her shoulder and she turns automatically. Stills when she sees who it is. He's added a tie, since their private meeting, his collar neatly closed. Looks just as good in the perfectly tailored suit as he had dressed down, damn him. "Might I have this dance?" he asks, offering his arm.

The man Caroline had been talking too steps back immediately, eyes dropping to the floor. He'd been cute but the genuflecting was kind of a turn off, pretty much reduced his attractiveness, in Caroline's eyes, to almost zero. She hands him her glass, not bothering to say anything, and takes Klaus' arm, letting herself be led on to the dance floor.

He sweeps her into the dance with a practiced motion, expertly leading in a way that melts her stiffness almost immediately, her body following his steps easily. She keeps her eyes averted, even when he murmurs, "I feel as though we've gotten off on the wrong foot, love."

"I don't like lies," Caroline snaps.

He doesn't seem to mind her anger, his reply even and calm. "I didn't lie. You made certain assumptions, I merely didn't correct them."

"Spoken like a true liar."

He's silent for a moment. "I suppose I am that. But I told you more truths then anything last night, Caroline."

Her head snaps to look at him, "Oh really?" she says incredulously. "You told me the truth, _Nick_?"

"My given name is, in fact, Niklaus. That was not a lie. And I was turned in Mystic Falls. And I did kill Katerina Petrova and the Salvatore brothers. And I do find your sharp tongue delightful."

Caroline looks around, sees more than a few pairs of eyes looking their way. "I can't get into this with you, right now. There are too many people here."

"An easy fix," Klaus tells her mildly. He catches the bandleader's eye, makes a slashing motion with his hand. The music halts immediately and he raises his voice, "Everybody out," he orders. "Now." There's a few murmurs of confusion, but everyone dutifully makes their way to an exit.

"What?" she sputters in protest. "Klaus, you can't just…"

But he's got a hand on her back, his palm warm against her skin, making her seriously regret the cropped top she's wearing, ushering her in the opposite direction of the flood of people streaming from the house. "I can. You'll find there's not much I can't do, love."

He leads her up a staircase, then another, and finally into a room, dominated by a huge dark wood bed frame. It's unmistakably his private bedroom. Caroline wrenches herself away from him, her earlier anger bubbling up once more, "Seriously? Could you be more presumptuous? Just because I was willing to sleep with you last night doesn't mean I'm going to now."

He shuts the door, slipping off his jacket and tossing it aside. "I'd never presume, Caroline. But you didn't want us to be overheard, correct? The bedrooms are spelled, making it the ideal place for this conversation."

She throws her hands up stalking away. "I don't want to have this conversation! I want to forget I ever met you!"

"Hard to do," Klaus counters far too reasonably, "when you live in my city."

"Um, duh. Have you not been paying attention? Last night was a disaster. I made a total ass of myself. I'm moving. Immediately. I hear Seattle's nice."

"It's not. It's rainy and filled with werewolves."

She lets out an aggravated noise, "Well as long as you're not there I can deal."

Klaus speeds several steps forward, until they're toe to toe, her heels putting them at an even height. She refuses to back away, stands her ground and holds his heated gaze. "No," he says simply.

Caroline lets out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, "'No?' No, what?"

"No, you'll not be leaving."

She feels her jaw drop, "You take this king this really seriously, don't you? But I'm not about to kneel and accept you as my ruler, or whatever. And unless you're planning on ripping my heart out I'll be going."

Caroline moves to brush past him but he stops her with a hand on her throat. But it's not a threat, his thumb softly stroking her wildly fluttering pulse. She bites her lip, shocked at just how good his touch feels, "I've no plans to kill you, love. I find you far too intriguing. But perhaps I can persuade you that you want to stay."

And then he kisses her, before she can snarl something about that being impossible, and make herself a liar in the process.

She'll curse herself for it later but she doesn't even think about not kissing him back, opening her mouth automatically under his onslaught and stroking into his mouth aggressively. He moans against her tongue, hands sliding down her body. He lifts her easily by her thighs, and she wraps them around his waist. She bites down on his lower lip, ripping his shirt away and digging her nails into his shoulders. He grinds their hips together, taking long strides forward and dropping her on his bed.

Klaus stands over her, just beginning to pant, a ring of gold bright around his irises. His hands glide up her legs, shoving up her skirt and tearing her underwear away. "This doesn't mean I like you," Caroline tells him, even as she wriggles out of her top and kicks off her shoes. "It's not my fault that you're stupidly hot."

His eyes glitter, the twist of his mouth viciously pleased as he drops to his knees. "I'll take the compliment, of course. But let's see what I can do to change your mind about the rest."

She grabs the bedding as his head ducks, closes her eyes and tries to keep her breaths even as his fingers part her folds. She's waiting, body tense and jaw clenched, for the first touch of his tongue. But nothing happens, so her eyes pop open and glare down at him. Which seems to be what he was waiting for, as he rasps his tongue over her clit. Caroline swallows the moan that builds, her toes curling into the edge of the mattress.

It gets harder, as he slips two fingers into her, and licking becomes sucking. Her hips start to move, shoving up into his face one moment and trying to get away the next, when it becomes almost too much. But Klaus stays with her, reading her body's cues perfectly, until her head's thrashing and her skin's slick with sweat.

Still, she refuses to make any noise, even if she wants to beg him for more, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

She's almost there, her thighs shaking under the hands he's pinned them with, riding the edge of something big.

And he stops. Pulls back and stands up, looming over her.

Her whimper of protest is mortifyingly loud. She's reaching down to touch herself, knows it'll only take a few circles of her fingers to get herself off. But Klaus is faster, catching her hands and crawling over her, pinning them over her head. He slants his mouth over hers, and Caroline lets out another little moan, upon tasting herself on his tongue, hitching her thigh over his hip and rocking against him.

"Better," he rumbles. "You can be angry with me Caroline. Because you think I deceived you. But don't try to deny that you want this."

She twists her wrists, and Klaus lets go, lets her flip them over. Caroline shakes her hair out of her face, sitting up and reaching for the clasp of her bra. She flings in aside, and Klaus eyes drop to her breasts immediately. It's a tiny distraction but she'll take it, reaching between them and ripping off his belt. She slides down, rakes her nails down his torso, watches the red lines fade as she tears open his pants. He helps her shove them down, groans, "Fuck, Caroline," when she wraps her hand around his cock. She strokes him firmly, watches him clench his jaw and try not to force himself harder into her grip. She rises up slightly, straddles his hips and positions him where she's dripping, "I think this will go better if you don't talk," she tells him, before sinking down in one swift motion.

Klaus gasps, hands tight on her hips, before he rolls them again. He pulls out and thrusts back in, and Caroline's back arches at the pleasure of it. But he stills, buried inside of her, circles his hips in a way that leaves her moaning at the fleeting pressure on her clit. She can barely focus on the words he rasps out, "I don't know, sweetheart. I think, under certain circumstances you'd very much like to listen to me talk. What if I told you about all the ways I want to fuck you? How good you feel wrapped around my cock? How incredible you look, flushed and spread out on my bed? How I can't wait to take you in yours?"

She opens her mouth to tell him to shut up again, but he begins moving, and the strangled noise that comes out isn't anything that resembles words. It's a quick climb, given how worked up she'd been, and soon she's clinging to him as her climax tears through her. His motions turn erratic, rocking into her and chasing his own high, his hips finally pinning hers as he shudders, her name a hoarse groan as he comes.

He rolls off of her quickly and they both breathe harshly, staring at his ceiling.

Caroline swallows hard, turning her head slightly to look at him, "I still don't like you," she states. Just in case he thought one round of great sex was enough to soften her.

Klaus seems unbothered, "Few people do. I've mostly gotten over it." A sly look crosses his face, and she's pulled across the bed, tucked underneath him, before she can blink. He props himself up on his elbows, staring down at her, "Have I convinced you to stay?"

She feels him hardening against her thigh, feels her body heat in reaction, her arousal building in response to the lean lines of him pressed against her. He must read her hesitance favorably, because his head lowers, mouth tracing her throat and moving lower. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, cataloguing her reactions, testing her with lips and tongue and teeth.

It's different, from the angry round of fucking they'd just finished, and she knows that's dangerous. Because she has a sinking feeling that she could like him. Maybe. Someday. If he was a little more like the man who'd seemed to want to know her last night.

He's hovering over her breasts, gently tracing a nipple with his thumb, when he speaks again, "Well, Caroline?"

It takes her brain a moment to remember the question. She lifts a shoulder, feigning nonchalance. "I still don't think I've found the best beignets, so…"

It seems to be enough for Klaus, because he's soon got his lips wrapped around her nipple and his hand between her thighs. And he might have been right about the dirty talk thing.

Caroline stays the night. Has no regrets.

Makes him wait two months before she agrees to let him take her out for dinner.


End file.
